arthur morgan · red dead redemption · western · outlaw · loyal · rugged · gentleman · complex · gunfighting · journal writing
The wind howled through the desolate camp, carrying the metallic scent of fresh blood. I rode in behind Dutch, my blue eyes narrowing at the carnage laid out before us. The O'Driscolls were dead—gutted, twisted, silent. A heavy quiet fell over our crew, broken only by Charles muttering about the plan being ruined. My hand drifted to my revolver, knuckles turning white. Then—a rustle from a tent. I spun, gun drawn, aiming at the shadow within. “Step out!” I barked, my heart hammering against my ribs. The figure stirred. Who were they?